There's Always An Exception
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Or, 5 Times John is Sherlock's exception, and one time Sherlock is John's. Johnlock fluff, for Web


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 _Written for the gorgeous Web. I hope you like it love :)_

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 **There's Always An Exception**

 _Or_

 **5 Times John is Sherlock's Exception, and One Time Sherlock Is John's**

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1

He's never cared about making others happy. If they cannot ensure their own happiness, then that's their fault, and certainly nothing to do with him.

But the gleam in John's eyes when he sees Sherlock eating gives Sherlock a warm feeling in his chest. And besides, it's not really a hardship to occasionally sit down with his flatmate for a thai takeaway and one of those stupid movies on the TV.

And really, it's not like anyone else needs to know how much Sherlock actually enjoys those occasions.

2

The flash of pain in John's eyes is a stab to Sherlock's chest. His deductions on Harry's renewed commitment to killing herself with alcohol had spewed forth as his deductions tended to do without thought to John's reaction.

Too late, he realised his words were a bit not good.

"John -"

"Leave it, Sherlock."

There was a silent pause and then a slamming door. Sherlock watched John walk away from the flat from the window. He hated that the limp was prominent in John's gait.

"I'm sorry."

3

Sherlock quietly set the tea down on the nightstand, keeping a worried eye on John. He'd never understood the need to take care of sick people - the chance of catching the germs himself was enough to keep Sherlock well away from anyone that so much as sneezed.

John had tried to soldier through his 'cold' but Sherlock wasn't stupid. He'd known the doctor had a rather severe strain of the flu long before John had admitted to it.

Oddly, Sherlock didn't feel the need to force John to his sisters, or the hospital, or anywhere that wasn't the flat Sherlock resided in. Instead, he'd spent hours in his mind palace, searching our all the remedies he could think of, and things that would make John better.

It was only when John's health returned to normal that Sherlock regretted it, as John bundled him up on the sofa and took care of him while he suffered his own bout of the flu.

And even then, Sherlock found he didn't really mind.

4

Sherlock paced, his mind whirring a mile a minute as connections and impossibilities fixed and broke themselves. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he sent a text to Lestrade.

 **Arrest the brother. I'll send further details on shortly. SH.**

Within minutes, a reply beeped through.

 **You don't want to come to the interrogation? GL**

Sherlock rolled his eyes. Of course he wanted to go to the interrogation. He wanted to be out there with his blogger at his side, chasing down the suspect in person.

 **John is injured. Of course not. Don't be stupid. SH**

Pacing the corridor again, Sherlock sighed impatiently. Where the bloody hell was the doctor? He wanted confirmation that John would be okay. He couldn't concentrate on anything else and it was disconcerting.

For a seemingly ordinary man, John Watson took up an inordinate amount of room in Sherlock's mind.

5

The sky was dark, lit only by the moon and the stars. Sherlock lay on the blanket, looking up as John pointed out various constellations.

Sherlock wanted to scoff; he didn't care one jot about constellations after all, but the soft smile on John's face was stopping the words from falling from his tongue.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Sherlock turned on his side so he was leaning over John.

Their eyes met, and Sherlock lost any interest he might have had in the sky.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, almost inaudibly.

+1

"You're beautiful."

John watched the light blush spread across Sherlock's cheeks, and felt a stirring in his chest. It happened often enough that he knew what it was, no matter that he'd denied it time and time again.

He wasn't gay after all.

Reaching a hand up to stroke Sherlock's cheek, John guided his face down carefully, their lips meeting in a chaste kiss.

When Sherlock pulled back, his eyes were wide.

"You're not gay," he murmured, wonderingly.

"No," John agreed, continuing quickly when he saw dismay on the detectives face. "But there are always exceptions, Sherlock."

The stars twinkled on above as two men who knew each other inside and out, started on a new path of discovery.


End file.
